50 Shades of Russia (Which might as well all be gray)
by RealmOfTheAbsurd
Summary: Young Alfred F. Jones is Kidnapped by a Russian mafia Underling by request of the big boss. When powerful Ivan Braginski hears of this, he starts to plot his revenge against the man who ruined his life. How? It's simple. He makes the young abducted boy fall in love with him, but what will Ivan do when he's the one falling? Falling further into love and lies that is.
1. Chapter 1

**Fifty shades of Russia (Which might as well all be gray.)**

It was a typical Friday afternoon in D.C. Killings, muggings, robberies, the usual things, all complimented by the thick industrial air and lovely green little lawns. I had taken a sick day, not really all that sick, and stayed at home in my boxers watching reruns of really crappy old soaps and Golden Girls. I was sprawled out on dad's recliner, chillin' with a bag of salted ruffle potato chips and a two liter bottle of Mountains soul juice. The episode that had been on was one I knew like the back of my hand. Blanche's brother was gay and bla bla bla. I flipped through the channels, looking for something with guns and blood and guts, nothing as far as I could see. So, I had done what any rational teen would do. I flipped to the T.v Guide and watched the weird dramas they had on, completely missing what was on the toon channel the first couple times.

Being at home while the poor saps I called classmates were in math had been a triumphant waterfall of awesome that poured down over me, proving that I was a badass. Though, my mom had called me in sick, but really it was badass enough. I mean, it was my idea and all... Not that I would ever justify skipping school or anything, but the last couple of days were... weird.

So, earlier that week, Monday particularly, was fairly normal. Mom cooked food, I went to school, then I went home home, then ate more food, then went to bed, but after that the week got really odd.

I had gotten on the yellow turd rocket to hell that fine Tuesday morning and talked it up with my buddy Jack. We'd talked about the normal stuff eighth grade boys talked about, which was boobs, but I digress, things got weird that day. Some particular cars started showing up more often, a fine black Mercedes Benz in all its German glory was the most notable, and there was a sudden surplus in the supply of fresh male teaching aides who did no actual aiding or teaching but sat around and bored their eyes into my soul. New adults also showed up at school, who loitered about and asked way too many personal questions like, "Are you sexually active?" and, "Do you have a girlfriend?", yet somehow unaffiliated and unknown to the school. My lunch table had slowly been infiltrated by weird angular people whom no one had seen before, and a very testy man with black hair started to hang around my locker after school. Now that shits just weird, pardon my French, but the worst part was when I opened my locker that Thursday to put my books and candy wrappers away. My locker was clean. Spotless. Like a baby's butt. My books had been stacked and organized by size, color, and alphabet. Tied neatly to my backpack with a black ribbon was a letter, which was also bordered in black. The man was nowhere in sight.

I re-crapabatized my books, thew more trash into my locker than ever before, shoved the homework into my backpack and bolted my tiny ass to the shaken, I sat down next to Jack and stared at him like an idiot, unable to wrap my mind around the significance of what just happend.

"Bro, You okay?"

"Dude." I started, preparing to finish the sentence but unable to.

"What's wrong?"

"Like... Just..." I looked at the letter on my backpack. "Someone left me a letter in my locker..." I handed it to him.

"That's what this is about? A letter?"

"No, like," I had taken it back from him and started tearing it open. "They cleaned my locker and... organized it." I had the letter out and had opened it by then.

**One day. **

Was all it said.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jack asked, like I knew.

"It means I'm not coming to school tomorrow is what it fucking means!" I opened the front pocket of my backpack, the one I use for trash accumulated on the bus, and found it cleaned out too, and replaced with more black bordered letters. I opened them all, and found their contents to be a terribly cheesy rendition of the sevenday's phone call, but on paper and with only five days.

That's why I was home on a school day. I'd told my mom and she told me she would talk to the principle about it when she could, and then I told her that I was _not_ going to school, no matter what she said... But I said it nicer, with a begging doe eyed breathless_ please_ at the end.

So I lived it up on Golden girls, salt, caffeine, and toons, but I'd just gotten settled in my dad's recliner when the doorbell rang. I got up and looked through the peephole, but no one was there. I'm not dumb though, this is D.C. People kill you like that. You think the persons gone, so you open the door to look and BAM. They kill ya, right there in your own home. Then they pillage the place and leave without even shutting the door, all while in broad daylight! So, I knew not to just open the door because I really liked my Xbox, but I was also curious. What if the neighbor had crawled over bloody and in need of my expert hero skills? It was my job to save all the lives of my fellow citizens when they crawl on my doorstep bloody and dying!

So I peeked through the curtains to see if anyone was there, staining the concrete steps with their blood. Nope, no one, JUST A BLACK MERCEDES BENZ. So, I freaked out and almost crapped myself. What was I to do in a situation like this? The Popo? They wouldn't believe me. Mom? She'd kill me first. Dad? He was away on adult people things. I was alone, so I did what I had to do. I popped in Home Alone and learned from the best. Unfortunately It was a rather long movie and there was no actual guid on what supplies you needed or how to set things up, so I grabbed my bag of marbles, sat in the kitchen closet with the all the cleaning products and hoped for the best. After forever had past and no one had dragged my screaming ass forcibly from the kitchen supply closet, I got out on my own and went back to the living room, totally convinced that I was overreacting.

"Home alone? You Americans sure know how to make one hold their balls. I came in and half expected my cruder parts to be smashed off."

My heart had jumped into my throat and my pulse had picked up. I looked over at my dad's recliner to see if there really was a huge russian man talking about his nuts being clobber off in my house, but to my great relief it was just the creepy black haired guy that stuck around my locker, and not a Russian.

"Oh god. It's just you. I thought there was a Russian in my house..."

"I am Russian." He stated.

"Yes... that would makes sense because the voice... Why are you in my house?"

"You didn't lock the door."

"Oh. Yeah. That's right. I didn't do that." I stood there, looking at him, him looking at me, a soft friendly smile on his face. I was really shocked. Why else would I be thinking of normal reasons for the stalker guy to be in my house?

"Uh... You want something to drink? We got... soda and lemonade and other, uh... American shit..."

"No I am good, thank you." We looked at each other, my brain doing its best not to panic and grasp the situation. He turned his head to look at me better.

"Yes, I like to look at your body, but when will you put cloths on?"

I jumped, and looked down at myself, patting my stomach a little. Boxers and socks. I'm such a lovely host.

"Oh shit! Geez i'm so sorry! Uh, i'll go do that now. Just... Just don't tell my mom, she'll kill me!" I ran up to my room and slammed the door.

'She will never have to know.' I heard him say after me. I was pulling on my jeans when it all finally hit me. Black haired stalker guy was in my house. He was also a Russian. What made the situation 20 gazillion times worse because everyone knows Russians wrestle bears and have vodka for blood.

"Oh shit. Just keep your cool man. Nothings happened so far. Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he want's to freak you out. Just Keep it cool. He'll leave when he figures out he ain't got nothin' on you." I pocketed my army knife and silently thanked the Swiss before heading back down to the living room, just in case I needed it.

"You sure you don't want anything." I asked him. "We have... Cheerios."

"No. I am fine."

"Meat?"

"No."

"Vodka? Rum? Wine?"

"I do not want anything."

"You sure? We have rat poison."

"No. I am fine, but valiant effort. I commend you."

I entered the living room and thought about where I should sit. If I sat too far away, he would have know I was shaken, but it would be stupid to sit close to him, so I decided to sit a little ways out of arm's reach on the sofa.

"You wish for this chair back?" He asked, and patted the plush arms of the recliner.

"No. It's hard to get out of when you're in a hurry. I'm fine here on the sofa that's easy to get off of, thank you."

"Oh, I see how you are."

"Yes... I am... are.."

"You amuse me."

"When are you leaving?"

"Oh, I do not know. Before you mother is due I suppose."

"She's coming home soon."

"You lie to me."

"I'm a liar."

"You are becoming a very bad one."

"Dude, you should like, really leave!"

"You should keep your locker clean, but i'm not here to tell you what to do, I am here to ask questions. Besides, we are friends now." He'd been thoroughly amused with the game he'd been playing on me.

"W...What? No. No. How do you make friends in Russia?" I started to lose my cool, irritated at this mans ability to just come into my house and not steal all the valuables. I'd started talking with my hands, shaking them at him, and poking my palm real hard to make sure he understood what I was telling him. "Dude, you are in America now. Not Russia. In America, we don't cleans out peoples lockers, or leave them creepy letters or-or like, come in their houses when we don't know them or like... be generally creepy and not steal their stuff. Do you understand what i'm saying to you? These are valuable American ideals! Like, so, don't do... what you're doing. Then we can be friends."

"So... change all that I am?" His smile never really changed, he just looked very amused and cocky.

"Or go back to Russia."

He laughed at this. If you could call the low rumble in his chest a laugh. He pointed at the movie stand.

"What do you like?"

"Dude, leave!"

"Tell me and I will do as you ask."

"... Seriously?"

He stared at me, not backing down.

"I like a lot of the movies! Thats why we buy them!"

"The games too?"

"YES."

"What do you like to eat."

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE."

"You must tell me for me to leave."

"I don't know! Peanut Butter?" I looked at the snacks placed around him. "That stuff! Chips and soda and other American things!"

"You are not the cleanest person."

"Please leave."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Oh my god. Get out of my house!" I went to the front door and opened it. "Leave. The door is here. Get out. Leave this house, get in your fancy car, get on a plane and go back to Russia. Or swim. Whatever gets you out faster."

He got out the the chair with ease and walked over to me.

"Maybe you do not understand, hm?" He'd leaned over me. "I can't leave just yet." His body was just behind mine, I could feel his breath on my neck.

"Shut the door boy."

I'd done what he'd commanded from me. He moved his hands to my neck and traced circles before tightening his grip. "You're tall for your age." He whispered in my ear.

"I-I like girls."

He laughed, the amusement that was once there had gone.

"Answer my questions and everything will be fine, and I will leave, okay?" He tightened his grip. I made an attempt to rip his fingers from my neck, but was unsuccessful.

"Okay I get it! I get it." He started to release me and I grabbed my pocket knife and stabbed the fuck out of him, only to realize that I hadn't flipped the blade out. He grabbed my wrist, shoved his thumb between the bones and twisted. I screamed and thrashed. I reached behind me and scratched at his face, trying to draw blood. He shoved me against the door, and put pressure on my lower back, which made it hard to breath. I kicked back, trying to crush his balls, but the angle had been weird and I'd missed.

"Stop that Alfred."

"God leave me alone."

"Stop or I'm going to have to hurt you."

I didn't stop. He sighed and slammed my head into the door. He released me and I slid down the door, cradling myself.

"I told you I would have to hurt you. You must listen to me." He crouched down to help me up, but I bolted past him and ran up the stairs to my room.

"You are making this very hard." He'd said before following me up the stairs. "You only have to answer my questions."

I was quick enough and managed to lock the door. I looked around for a way to get out, but found no escape but the window that lead two stories down. If I broke my legs I could never get away, but by that time he'd made it to the door and had tried to open it. I ran to my window, thinking it the only way out, but he'd used his freaky Russian strength to break my door down.

"Your parents are going to be very mad when they see what has happened to your door."

I'd gone behind my bed and started throwing shit at him. My lamp was the first to be thrown, shattering against the wall when I missed. Other things were thrown too, my alarm, books, pillows, a glass bowl. Nothing stopped him of course for he was an unstoppable wall of Russian.

He rounded the bed and I jumped over it, throwing my blanket at him, hoping it stopped him long enough for me to get away.

I ran down the stairs, and hoped to make it to the door but was only able to make it to the living room. I ran around the sofa and stood by the DVD stand, taking a few in hand to throw. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me, hand on the rail.

"Your feet."

I threw a DvD at him.

"You told me you liked all of those, must stop before you ruin them."

"Shut up!" My voice had been shaking and had probably gone a little horse by that time. I'd looked to the door and started to move towards it, but I hadn't masked my motives in the least so he was at the door before I had a chance.

"I'm getting tired of this Alfred."

"Stop saying my name!"

"Answer my questions."

"Get out of my house!"

He moved to me, and I ran forward, dropping the DvD's, running over the recliner and into the kitchen. He'd been just behind me, and in my scramble to be free I knocked over almost every kitchen appliances in the house. I'd been slow in my scramble though, and he grabbed me and threw me on the tile before startled me to pinning me down with his weight, which threatening to crush the air from my lungs.

"You have left blood everywhere."

"Let me go!"

"You are being silly, Alfred."

"Shut up!"

"Answer my questions."

"Let me go!"

"No."

"Please!"

"No. Just answer my questions."

I bucked up, trying to throw him off, but he stayed on.

"Stop this Alfred."

I reached up with my foot, grabbed a draw and yanked it out. It hit him in the back, but did no damage. I'd only succeeded in dropping a heavy drawer on my legs and scattering measuring cups all around.

"I will hurt you Alfred, stop this."

"Get off me!"

"I will hurt you Alfred, stop this."

"Get off me!" I Reached up to bite him, and he punched me in the gut.

He started to talk very softly, as if to soothe me while I hacked up my guts.

"I just want you to answer a few questions for me. Just a few, and then I will be gone, never to set foot in your house again. I will even stop showing up at your school. Just a few questions is all, and we'll leave."

"There's more of you?"

"Of course. There are two people in this house Alfred. Answer the questions and we'll leave, okay?"

"And you'll leave forever?"

"Yes. Forever."

"...Let's get this over with."

"Good, i'm glad you came around." He pulled out a cell phone and pressed a button. "Talk into this, okay?" He held it to my face. "Okay, are you a virgin?" I didn't answer. "You must answer and we will leave. Forever."

"...Yes."

"Ah, good. What movies do you like?"

"Action, comedy. Stuff like that."

"Okay, what foods do you like?"

"I already told you!"

"Again please.."

"Processed stuff, sweet stuff, sugar. Salt. American things. Peanut butter, chips, chocolate, soda. Pasta stuff, meat stuff, fried stuff."

"What don't you like?"

"Uh... Like... Liver and intestines and stuff. I don't like cooked spinach. Asparagus is nasty and makes your pee smell bad. I like to try everything though."

"Good to know. What clothes do you like to wear?"

"Like... Jeans and t-shirts and stuff. Abercrombie, American Eagle, Hollister. Soft things like that."

"Soft things?"

"Yes that's what I said."

"This is also good to know. What do you do in your spare time?"

"T.V, video games, books, school work. What else would I do?"

"What do you like to do?"

"Outdoor stuff... Video games. The usual."

"What do you like to do outdoors?"

"Football, skiing, sledding. Go to the mall. BBQ's. Hang out with people..."

"This is all very good to know."

"Are you guys leaving now?"

"Yes, we are leaving now." He flipped the phone closed and put it away. He hauled me up. "Okay, here we go."

"Finally."

Before I knew it there was a cloth over my face. I tried not to breath and force that man off, but everything had gotten dim, and I had lost my strenght. I fell limp against him, barely conscious. The kitchen door opened.

"His feet are bleeding. He tried to fight me off, he is quite an energetic one." There was some laughing, then It finally faded to black.

**Hello! This is my first fanfic, so please enjoy and review! Tell me of any boo-boos I may have made. I have started writhing this fic as a warm up for my senior project. I'm very bad at consistency, so if you do actually like the story and wish for updates, please pester me or it might not happen! Do keep in mind that I _have_ to write my senior project or I wont be allowed to graduate, so that comes first! Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

The noises had started to wake me. Before it had all been white noise and a low rumble that vibrated my skin numb, but slowly bits and pieces started to fit together and form a rather messed up story. I don't know what had sucked my energy more, the loss of the adrenaline in my blood, the fight for my freedom, or the jet lag. I'd tried to lift my head and see where I was, but someone had softly pushed it back down. They said words softly into my ear, but it had all blurred together. I'd thought maybe it was my dad, but... my father had never stroked my hair in such a gentle way.

I reached up to feel the hand that caressed me, and had only been a little surprised when it started to caress my fingers too. The voice murmured to me again. None of it had been coherent of course, but it lulled me deeper into this... delerium. I had no Idea what I was experiencing, and the gentle touches that had danced across my skin felt comforting, but I was unable to understand why I'd needed the comforting.

I was at the mercy of others, and if It wasn't for my tired mind and body, maybe I would have known and done something to stop... whatever it was that they were doing to me. I'd been unable to really see or hear anything anyway. Everything moved too quickly for me to understand what was going on, and touching... The voice in my ear... It was all so damn distracting. It was like being an infant again... Only able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and finding everything fascinating.

I was steadily becoming conscious though, and had made several attempts to move, all of which were stopped with the gentlest of touches. I tried to speak, and I could feel my lips moving, but I don't think any real words came out of my mouth. Whoever had been with me had tried to calm me down by patting my stomach, but my eyes and brain were clearing. I'd pushed his hands away and sat up to look around. I was in an old flying metal death trap with three other people who were most probably going to kill me.

The pilots looked back at me and spoke, of course I didn't understand any of it, and tried to stand up. The man who sat next to me pulled me back down onto this plush 'bed' thingy. I tried to sit back up again, but he became very... Firm this time, and held me down a few moments so that I would 'get it.' So, I laid by down and looked at his face. He was rather handsome with his blue eyes and brown hair, but then again, he was also Russian. He'd stroked my hair again, then begun to presses another chloroform rag to my face. I was almost out when suddenly the whole plane flipped, and I was thrown against the side of the plane. Then It all went black.

My ears were ringing and my body was cold. I tried to open my eyes but I only saw black dots on a white canvas. I tried to lift myself up, but collapsed under my own weight. I'd tried a second time and managed to flip myself over in a panting aching heap. I was outside in the frigid cold. I watched as the snowflakes fell and the plume of black smoke rise to replace them. I had been dazed by the contrast between the two images, and the melted snowflakes on my cheeks made no attempt to lift me from the daze.

It'd felt like christmas. The warmth of the fire... The crackle of the fire... Laughter... It had all been so real that I could have roasted marshmallows over it, I swear. I tried to think of reasons as to why I was outside in the snow, but my mind told me it was tired and that I should sleep right there, in the cold. It was a very tempting Idea, because... Well... For some reason I wasn't all that cold anymore, and so I made no attempt to move, I just layed there and watched the scene before me unfold.

A long shadow fell over my eyes and I looked over to see what caused it, but was distracted by how red the snow was. I was thinking about how red snow had fallen from the sky when a warm bottle was pressed to my lips, and I was forced to drink the liquid that slid down my throat. How I hadn't noticed the man before is a mystery to me, but when I did I'd thought he was an angel.

He took off his coat and scarf and wrapped them around my body, before lifting me up and placing me into another vehicle. It was amazing how warm the cloths were. They were large and soft and smelled nice too, but I just couldn't get over the warmth. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep. I knew this because eventually I was jolted awake by a curt shake and then lifted up again.

We'd entered a rather modest house and I was placed on the warm hard floor and my clothes were swiftly torn from my body. Bare skin pressed against mine and soon I began to feel the cold in my limbs. I tried to breath in but couldn't seem to find any air. I tried again and again and soon warm lips pressed against mine and forced air into my lungs. The feeling in my limbs had slowly returned in a searing burning pain. Air was forced into my lungs again, and when the lips moved from mine I cried out in pain. The man began rubbing my chest in a circular motion, warming my vitals with his hands. Soon I was able to breath on my own again, and he moved away from me. I started to babble, talking, saying anything I could to keep him near me... Anything I could to keep the warmth. He had returned to me with more warm liquid and made me drink.

He then wiped my face with a cloth and blew hot air over my cold skin. His face was so near mine, I reached out to touch it, but he took my hands and placed them under my pits before I could touch his face or his ashen hair. After that he wrapped my bare body in a few blankets and made me drink more of the warm liquid.

"Are you an angel?" I asked. He looked up at me.

"Nyet, I am no angel."

"Did you save me?"

"There is no one else. You are tired, da?"

"Yea."

"Then you will go to sleep."

He picked me up off the floor and laid me down onto a bed, throwing more blankets over me.

"Make sure to keep the middle warm, and don't run the fingers together, you will hurt yourself if you do. Now sleep." He turned off the lights and left the room. I fell asleep quite quickly and had dreams of fire and screams, only to wake up several hours later overly warm and very dreary. I kicked the covers off my body and tried to get up, but couldn't find the edge of the bed, only a wall.

"You must learn when it is time to be still, tiny boy."

I stopped moving... Maybe even stopped thinking. None of it was a dream. It all really happened... I had been kidnapped, drugged, abandoned in the snow, and rescued by some white haired guy who took off all my cloths. My family probably though I was dead, my body hurt, I was thirsty, overly hot, and in bed with some unknow man. My life really sucked.

He had taken off all my cloths... I'd looked down at myself... I was in my pj's... So he'd dressed me... He'd taken all my clothes off and then dressed me. I'd had more skin ship with a man I'd met only a couple hours before, than I'd had with any woman ever.

"Lay back down." The voice commanded.

I laid down, and he threw more blankets on top of me, then moved me closer to his body. I pushed him away.

"I-it's too hot!"

"Oh it's too hot? Just a few hours ago you were dying from the cold, and now you are too hot? You would like to go back outside with the snow and the wind, da?"

"...Not really, no."

"Then you will go to sleep."

His whole essence was menacing. He oozed authority the way BP oozed off-shore oil spills. It was devastating and could ruin a whole eco-system. I didn't move. I laid there, smothered between a huge Russian guy and all his blankets, waiting for him to fall off into sleep. It was impossible to tell if he was asleep or not, so I sat there quietly, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to slow. I could feel him against my back... His breathing never changed, it was steady and even. His breath was hot against the top of my head, his arm around my waist was burning its way into my flesh, and I could feel myself start to go crazy.

"You are tired, yet you refuse to sleep." He'd said against the top of my head.

"I'm hot and thirsty and kinda weirded out."

"You asked me not to leave, and so I am here, and now you want me gone?"

"W-what? No, thats not it... Im hot... And thirsty... And I haven't shared a bed with another boy since my cousins seventh birthday party..."

"You wish for water?"

"Yes... I.. Wish... For a glass of water. Please."

His body pulled away from mine, and sweet sweet cold air rushed in between. I felt him turn

over, and then he was pulling me up beside him.

"Here you are." He said, pushing the bottle between my lips. "You will drink, and then you will sleep."

I chugged the liquid, basking in its wetness. In my haste to get it all down, some of it dribbled down my chin, and he wiped it up with a swift move of this thumb over my skin.

"You are done now, da?"

"There's still some left..."

"Good, now take this pill. It will make you sleep."

Where he got the pill and how he could see in the darkness, I will never know, but he took up my hand and dropped the tiny little sleep bomb into my palm.

"It... Like, won't make me sleep forever will it?"

"You think I will save you, then kill you? I will not do that so easily."

"So easily... If I die, i'm going to haunt you."

"You will take the pill and sleep."

"Do we need so many blankets?"

"It gets very cold at night."

"But theres two of us under them all..."

"You almost had frostbite, I would hate for you to be frozen in the morning with no fingers or toes, no matter how funny you would look."

"When can I go home?"

"You will have to sleep first. Take the pill, we will talk when I am less tired."

He'd taken the pill from my palm and popped it into my mouth. The sugar capsil had started to dissolve immediately, spreading its nasty sweet then bitter taste all over my mouth. I downed the rest of the water, hoping it would take the taste with it, but no, it hadn't.

"It will work soon, lay down."

"That was cruel." I said, doing as he said.

"There are far crueler things I could have done to you to make you sleep."

"Still..."

I closed my eyes, but found myself waiting to feel the medicine's effects. There were far less blankets now, and I was much more comfortable, so I was actually grateful when the haze hit and I could concentrate on that instead of the warmth of the Russian against my back. The wind outside began to whistle, and the house shook around us a bit.

"A storm?" I asked.

"Da." He'd said.

It was quiet again and I was drifting in and out of a very peculiar dream. A nightmare really.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Ivan."

"Ivan waht?"

"Braginski."

"My name is Alfred F. Jones."

"Good. Now sleep."

With that, I fell asleep to the tune of my nightmares. Of screams and fire and guns.

**So guys, feel free to review, tell me what you like, what you don't. Tell me where you see this going, I might not know myself. Or do I?**

**Also, I learned some cool facts about hypothermia, frostbite, and even CPR. You could always check that stuff out. Also, if any of you know the person who created the image on my cover, please let me know... I'm going to try to update each chapter within 5 days each, so... There ya go. Tell me if I made any writhing boo-boos please, I try very hard with spelling, grammar, and tense, so if I did anything weird, please tell me!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

He pulled up a chair, sat down and stared at me. I stared back at him of course, the plush pillows propping me up as I laid in his bed.

"No." I told him flatly.

"You think you have a choice, da?" He looked at me, not changing his expression.

"Dude, you can't make me."

"Oh, I think I can."

"Dude, like, no you can't."

"Would you like to see me make you?"

"Bro, it's my body, you can't make me!"

"I will make this very clear to you now." He leaned in towards me, his white hair falling over his dark eyes. "I will not be clawed any more. You will clip your nails, or I will force you to."

"I won't do it again! It was an accident."

"You have nightmares every time you sleep. It's not something you can control or else you would not be having them."

"Why do we even have to share the same bed!?"

"This is my house and I will sleep in the bed that I own. If you do not want to sleep in the bed then you and your injuries are welcome to sleep on the floor." He looked at the door. "Or you may leave. Whichever you prefer."

"It snowed like, a foot! I can't leave no matter how much I want to."

"43 centimeters. So you will be taking the floor then?"

"Why does it snow so much in June?"

"Why do you answer questions with questions?"

"I don't want to sleep on the floor..."

"Good." He threw the nail clippers onto my lap and walked away.

I looked at my nails; there were a bit too long, and overly sharp. I could see why he felt so strongly about my clipping them considering the fact that I had his dried blood under my fingernails, but still... I'd sat on his bed, under the many blankets he'd thrown back on me in the middle of the night and clipped my nails defeatedly. I'd just finished sweeping the clippings into a pile when he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Clean them." He'd said, giving me a small cloth and a bottle of what I could only assume was peroxide or some other wound cleaner.

I looked at him, wondering what he was talking about when he pulled up the back of his shirt.

"Oh geez! Sorry!"

"Just clean them. Who knows where your hands have been."

I dumped the cleaning stuff onto the small towel and gently wiped at the many crescent shaped puncture wounds decorating his back.

"So... What color are your eyes exactly?"

"Purple."

"Really? Oh my god that is so cool."

"How did you not notice by now?"

"I thought they were like... black or something..."

"How do you mistake purple for black?"

"How can you see in the dark? How can you like... Fight a bear or build a rocket or.. um... What else do Russians do? How do you drink Vodka like it's water?"

"Have you finished yet?"

"No..."

"Your mouth works harder than your hands."

"Oh, like you add your two cents! You wear scarves and trench coats in the house! And also... Uh... Are you even a real doctor? You're probably not even a real doctor!"

"I am all you have."

I rubbed his back down, probably more than necessary, and contemplated what he said. Surely Ivan wasn't all I had... I knew I still had all the people back home.

"Thats not true. I have my parents and friends and stuff..."

"Not here."

"But I won't be here forever."

Ivan got quiet, and so did I. I went over each wound individually, taking in the texture of his skin, the curve of his bones... The way the tiny white hairs on his lower back stood up when I touched his bare skin with my finger tips.

"Why do you wear the scarf all the time?"

"That is not your concern."

"You said I was gonna be here awhile, so you might as well tell me now."

"I hope you will not be here that long."

"You sleep practically naked!"

"No."

"Dude, you didn't have a shirt on last night. That's how I managed to claw the fuck out of you, duh."

"I was giving you the body heat you needed to live."

"It was hot with you under all the blankets!"

"You got cold when the storm hit again."

"Stop with all the logic!"

"Are you done yet?"

"Oh, yeah... I'm done." I dropped the rag and bottle into his lap. "There ya go."

He sat on the bed for a while and I leaned back and watched him. He was bent over looking at his hands, his long scarf draped over his knees... His nose curved down towards his strong coral lipped mouth and white lashes hung over his intense violet eyes.

"Bro, your eyes really are purple."

"Why would I lie?" He hadn't looked up. He'd just sat there, looking very serious and focused, but I couldn't think of anything so important when the rest of the world was impossible to reach. His breath was steady in the quiet space and relaxed me so much that soon I'd closed my eyes and was drifting off into the open abyss of sleep, when I felt the weight on the bed shift closer to me.

"You have changed my plans" He whispered, stroking my hair from my forehead.

"Hm..?" I asked tiredly.

"You are not asleep yet?"

"Mmmm."

"Sleep now." Ge said, patting my head, and he didn't have to tell me twice.

I was immersed in darkness and for the first time in what had seemed like forever I was able to sleep peacefully... Well, until I had another nightmare, but that's besides the point! Each nightmare was a little different, but they'd all ended the same. I would be jolted awake right before the big unveiling of what it all meant... If any of it really meant anything anyways.

In that particular nightmare I was sitting in a dark circular room, decorated with ticking clocks, maroon furniture placed in the middle of the room, long draping tapestries with rather violent depictions, and a fireplace covered in my family photos. The room had no door... No place for me to escape. I was looking around for an exit, throwing clocks off the wall, and tearing tapestries down when a familiar voice called out to me.

"Stop that Alfred."

I turned to look at the owner of the voice and found black haired guy sat on the couch with a glass of clear liquid in his hands. He looked up at me and smiled slightly.

"We need to talk Alfred." He'd said and patted the spot beside him. I obliged and sat down next to him, and accepted when he offered the glass to me.

"What are you doing, Alfred?" He asked me.

I took a drink, not surprised when it was only water. "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted too." I replied.

"Stop this Alfred."

"What do you expect me to do Guy? I can't do anything!"

"You're lying to yourself."

"No... It's really different now."

"Oh Alfred... You're lying to yourself again. Come here."

He pulled me close to his chest and cradled me, rubbing my hair, and murmured soft gentle words in my ear, in a language I couldn't understand of course, but I knew the feelings behind them anyways. A piercing screech came from behind me and I jumped.

"What was that?" I'd asked.

"You know what it was, Alfred."

"No... No I don't!"

"Stop lying to yourself. It's time you face the facts about what really happened."

"God, I told you I don't know!" The sound came again, and really, I realized, I did know what it was.

"You hear it all the time, Alfred. There's just... More to it now."

Suddenly I was standing in the red snow, facing a valley full of sunflowers. The heat forming behind me started to burn and I was forced to walk forward.

"Guy?" I looked to my side and suddenly he was there.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Why aren't the sunflowers dead?"

"It's June, Alfred."

"But it's snowing."

"It's a mountain. There's snow on mountains sometimes. "

"If it's snowing why aren't they dead?"

"Why won't you look back, Alfred?" He asked, and I stopped walking.

"Why do I need to look back?"

"You're afraid."

"I'm never afraid!"

"You should be, Alfred. You know that."

"No, I-" There was a gloved hand on my shoulder shaking me, I looked at Guy, and he looked back at me.

"You know what it was, Alfred, and you know that you should be afraid."

"No, stop I-" The hand shook me again, and I turned back to see who it was, but all I could see was the smoke of a fire rising into the sky. I turned in a circle, looking for the person that shook me, but all I could see were sunflowers. The hand was there again, shaking me. I grabbed it and tried to force it off, but it held fast. I turned around to face the person, but they shook me again.

"Wake up!"

I was shaken awake, once again, by Ivan, who'd situated himself over me. I was breathing hard, covered in a cold sweat.

"Ivan..." My fingers were still tangled in his red and white shirt, where I had tried to push him off of me. I sighed in relief and let my body relax, my hands slid down his arms before falling lazily into my lap. I laughed, letting my head roll back, still elevated from his grasp on my shoulders.

"Thanks, dude." I whispered to him, closing my eyes. "Really, thank you."

He was quiet for some time, but soon he laid me back down onto the mountain of pillows and gave my shoulder a gentle pat.

"They will leave you soon I think."

"Everyone has nightmares, Ivan. They'll never go away, but maybe someday i'll actually get to sleep."

"Da." He said simply, growing quiet again.

He'd made no attempt to move from my side, and I smiled at the warmth his body emulated. I felt his fingers brush over my eyelids, then work their way down my cheek and over my lips where they lingered. I'd opened an eye and looked at him, grinning for ear to ear.

"What the heck are you up to?" I'd said playfully, his thumb resting against my bottom lip a while before turning my to the side.

"Watching you." He'd replied.

"Gosh, now I can't sleep."

"You would only have bad dreams anyway."

We sat there awhile, him watching me and me watching him watch me. His violet eyes scanned over my body, and lingered a bit long at my legs, before returning to my face.

"Don't worry, I'm sure all my boo-boo's will be healed real soon. I get better fast. In fact, I think I should be better by tomorrow!"

"Don't start predicting the future."

"Um... Ivan?"

"Da?"

"Can you... Stop touching my face?"

"Nyet."

"Why not?" I whined.

"I am looking at the cut."

"What cut?"

"Have you really not felt it?"

I wiggled my face around, seeing if I could feel any difference, and I did, of course, but was completely surprised at the slight pain and resistance above my eye. I'd reached up to touch the place, when Ivan grabbed my hand and held it for what seemed like a rather long time.

"Hey, dude?"

"I'm Ivan."

"Yea, I know. Do you got a bathroom?"

"Yes, I have a bathroom."

"I gotta take a whizz, so..."

"You have to use the bathroom?"

"Yea. I do."

He pointed off into some corner of the house.

"It is there."

"I can't see that far, dude."

"You can not see?" He waved his hand in front of my face, and I pushed it away rather violently.

"Shut up! I can see... I just.. have glasses."

"Oh. Yes... I do know that, I just thought they were for reading."

It got quiet again, and I looked at him in disbelief. After a while he looked back at me like I was the dumbest person he'd ever met.

"H-how.. Like... Why... How would you know that?" I asked, bewildered.

His look grew deeper, but after looking at me for a while, I confirmed that I thought he was a creep with a raise of an eyebrow.

"This is outrageous." He declared, before dropping my hand and gesturing to the whole room.

"I can't see any of that!" I practically screamed the words, pointing around the room in an imitation of his earlier action.

"Okay, that is fair. I will give that one to you, but," He pulled the blankets off my body and grabbed my pajama shirt, pulling it up and bunching it into his fist, exposing my stomach and chest.

"Why would I have your clothes, Alfred? Why would I have a spare pair of frog printed nightwear in your size?"

"Uh..."

"I wouldn't!" He let go of me, causing me to bump my head against the wall, and pulled out a small blanket from the bunch he'd thrown off me... An American flag printed blanket... The one I'd had since my birth.

"Ow. Well, Okay, I just didn't think-"

"Exactly! You did not think!" He'd poked at my rest rather hard, expressing his distaste.

"Oh come on! I get it. Stop. Stop!" I grabbed his hand. "I gotta pee and your poking is not helping it at all! Stop it!

"Yes... Sorry."

"So like... My clothes and stuff are here?"

"Well... I'd think most of it is here, but I am not sure it is all yours... Unless you like Pretty Little Liars? But I would not judge you."

"Yea... Well it was my moms anyways... But I do kinda like it... A lot."

"Okay, maybe I judge you a little bit."

"God, okay, glasses, bro! I gotta piss like a moose! Can you _please _get me to that bathroom! Pronto! Mush. PLEASE."

Ivan crossed the room and returned with the glasses. I shoved them onto my face and swung my legs over the bed, Ivan reached for me but it was too late.

"OW, FUCK!"

"Did you not feel that either?"

"Just pick me the fuck up!" I was about to burst and had to grab my private parts to hold it in. "Fuck take me outside! Just go! GOD." Ivan looped his arms through mine, locked his fingers together on my chest, picked me up, and took me outside. My hands were already in the hole of my pajamas, working on the button to the one in my boxers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't get it!" I was pressed up against Ivan's chest, wiggling and squirming, trying not to piss myself, but unable to concentrate long enough to undo the button. Ivan reached down with one hand and pulled my pj's and undies down with a single tug, freeing my parts.

"Oh god yes!" I'd practically screamed, grabbing my junk and pissing into the melting snow. "Yes! That feels so good! You don't even know!" I'd arched my hips, and thrown my head back, loving the sensation of emptying bladder. When I'd finally finished I was a panting breathless mess. I laid my head back on Ivan's chest, feeling his heart race under his shirt, and I heard him swallow hard. I opened my eyes, and looked out at the melting landscape.

"You don't know how good that felt." I said, pulling my pj's back up.

"I think I got a good idea." He'd said, picking me back up and heading inside. He practically threw me on the bed before heading over to a door in the upper left corner of the room.

"This is the bathroom." He said, before disappearing inside.

"Okay!" I'd shouted at the closed door. "Thank you!"

It was then that I looked around the room, quite surprised at how not-like-a-mountain-shack it was. The whole house was rectangular, much like a double wide trailer, only, it was the nicest house I had ever been in. The walls were cream colored, with dark wood borders, wide curved windows with cute little curtains, built in shelves, and tasteful paintings strewn around. The floor was also some fancy dark wood, polished to a shine and covered in wax. The bed that I had slept on the last couple of days was boxed in on three sides and elevated about a foot off the ground. It was located in the center of the back wall, and right in front of it, on the front wall, was the door. Beside the door was a shoe rack, stocked with almost every pair of shoes I'd owned, and a few I assumed were Ivan's. Boots were placed neatly in a row, from tallest to shortest beside it.

I leaned over the edge of the bed, peering past one of the walls. The floor on that side of the room was covered in a white and blue round rug, on it was a dark leather couch, an end table with typical end table things, like a lamp, coasters, papers with Russian writing and a small statue of a sunflower that I'm sure he used as a paperweight, and the eagle bean bag chair from my room. I craned my neck to see beyond the couch and spotted one of my best friends, the T.V. It was a nicely sized flat screen, at least 52 inches, and laid out neatly on the blonde wood entertainment center where all my gaming systems laid with all their parts, a remote, and an empty vase.

I looked behind the wall of the bed, wondering what else was there, and found an attached bookshelf stocked with Russian things, all my games, books, movies and two comfortable looking plush white chairs complete with matching pillows. I looked in front of the door, seeing a sleek metal box covered in a few spare blankets, decorative pillows and a dresser.

I looked behind the other wall, but I didn't really find much, just a fishtank with some serious aquascaping, an old damaged piano covered in scorch marks, and another door in the corner of the room, which I assumed to lead to the kitchen. It totally wasn't as cool as the other side of the room, but I wasn't going to tell Ivan that. I looked around the room again, pinpointing everything that was mine.

After a while I was sure I'd seen all of my things, or at least where they were stored, but something felt a bit off. The white plush rug in front of the door seemed familiar, and slightly out of place in the sleek scape of Ivan's home, but it soon struck me. It was the dingy carpet from my room that I pushed under the door so no one could get in while I masturbated... Only it was clean and soft looking now. I heard the door of the bathroom open and looked back at Ivan and pointed around at all my stuff.

"Dude, they took my advice!"

"...What?"

"They stole my stuff!"

"...You... Advised them to steal your stuff?"

"Well... Now that sounds bad. I just schooled them on... Being more American while in America."

"So you told them to steal your stuff?"

"No, I just told they they couldn't be creepy, break into someone's house, and _not _steal their stuff."

"You're joking with me right?"

"Dude don't give me that look!"

"What look?"

"That one you're making right now with your face! It's all 'Oh, look at me. I'm a Russian guy who lives by Russian ways and thinks you are a STUPID IDIOT, WITH A STUPID IDIOT FACE!"

"W-what?"

"You think you're all badass and shit well... Kiss my ass."

"What just happened...?"

"You were judging me!"

"You told kidnappers to steal the stuff in your house! How can I not?"

"That guy was creepy and like... Did weird things and shit... So, it would have been weird if he left without taking my shit! Like, what happens if he come over again? Well obviously he isn't breaking into my house to steal my stuff, or stalking me at school to get my house key! NO! HE WANTED ME! SO, WHY NOT OFFER UP A TRADE? ALL MY AWESOME AMERICAN SHIT, IN PLACE OF MY AWESOME AMERICAN SELF, RIGHT? Seemed logical to me."

"He did both."

"He would have anyways."

"How could you know that?"

"He asked obvious questions like, what do you like to eat and read and shit."

"Is that why there was so much... Junk?"

"What? Junk? I like my stuff, thank you so very much!"

"You need to watch what you say to me."

"You sound like my mom."

"You talk to your mother like this?"

"W-what? No!.. Okay sometimes, but only when I was really upset!"

"Maybe she's happy you're gone."

"WHAT? WHAT? Excuse me? I'm going to fucking kick your fucking ass!" My screams had became louder and I jumped off the bed to give that commie bastard a piece of justice pie, but my knees gave out and I collapsed to the floor in pain, clutching at them. I heard Ivan laugh at me, at my humiliation.

"Did you forget about that?" He asked smugly.

"My mother loves me." I'd said through gritted teeth, fighting back pooling tears. "She fucking loves me!" The floodgates had opened and I was shamefully crying, but I managed to stay quiet. My glasses had started collecting tears and had slowly started sliding off my face, but I concentrated on the arm supporting me, watching it struggle to keep me up... Watched my hand twist into a quivering fist of anger and shame.

"Are you crying?" He asked.

"Fuck off!"

"You are crying."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Ivan knelt down next to me and pulled me up beside him, slipping his arm under mine.

"I am sorry." He'd said, rubbing my back and cradling me to his chest. "I am certain your mother loves you."

"I-I wish I still had nails so I could scratch your eyes out!" I said through streaming tears. Ivan reached around pulled me onto his lap by the thigh, hugging me tight and rubbing my back softly.

"I'm sorry." He said regretfully, stroking my hair hair gently and pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "I really am."

"I hate you." I said, slapping a fist weakly against his back, before breaking down into uncontrollable sobs and hiccups. He held me while I clutched at his shirt, kneading it in my fists, crying against the skin of his neck. "M-my parents t-think I-I'm dead!" I wailed, digging my non-existent nails into his skin.

"Shh." He cooed, hugging me tighter. I cried harder, my tears running down my face and then down his neck. "It will be okay." We stayed like that for a while until I couldn't ignore my nose any longer.

"I need a tissue, Ivan." I said through sobs.

"Uh... Yes..." He gently pushed me from his lap, placed me on the floor, and grabbed a box of tissues from a draw in the end table. I grabbed the tissues when he offered them to me and blew my nose a couple times.

"My head hurts too..." I looked up at him, my watery blue eyes pleading.

"Uh... Yes." He said again and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging only to disappear into the doorway I was sure led into the kitchen.I adjusted my weight and sat on my butt, lifting up my pant leg and observing my injured leg. A yellowing bruise ran across the side of my knee and my ankle bone. I heard the door behind me shut and I looked back to see Ivan returning with a glass of water in hand.

"Take this." He said, dropping a couple of blue pills in my hand, then giving me the glass of water. "I think it will make the pain go away."

"What?"

'The bottle said it was a pain reliever."

"Then why would you say 'I think?' That makes it sound terrible!" I looked the pills over, and saw that 'Aleve' was printed on the gel capsules and smiled at the thought of the Russian man looking it over, thinking about how simple Americans had to be for a company to have to name their product after what it does. 'Aleve. Makes the pain go away and is much easier to say than Ibuprofen.'

"Dude... Your floor..." I mentioned suddenly, swallowing the pills.

"Da?"

"It's hot."

"Um...?"

"Why is your floor so hot?"

"Hot as in attractive or as in warm?"

"Is the floor made of mahogany?"

"Um, no, it's actually a rather funn-"

"Then its not attractive it's just a floor."

"But you said that the floor was hot..."

"Oh who's not thinking now? You aren't! Fifty-fifty chance, you eliminated an answer and now you're arguing? Russians."

"That's rude, Alfred."

"You said my mom didn't love me."

"No I said that sh- No, let's forget about that. I said I was sorry."

"You know who else said they were sorry?"

"Are we about to fight?"

"Um... I can't win. You'd probably just crush me and feed me to your pet bear."

"What?"

"Do you drink vodka like it's water?"

"What were the pills made out of?"

"My mom loves me Ivan."

"I never said she didn't."

"Yes you did. Accept it. You're a jerk face. And She's probably freaking out right now... She's probably upset because my birthday's coming up soon too and we already ordered my cake.. And got... The invitations... Oh god... What if they use my party list for the funeral list? What if they skip my birthday and just have a funeral?"

"Um..."

"Am I going to die here?"

"Uh..."

"I am aren't I?"

"You are tired, da?"

"Fuck, I am!"

"What?"

"You avoided the question which means you didn't want to answer which means it's hard to answer which means yes!"

"I just... No, you look into things much too closely. You are babbling, and you do that when you try to sleep, so..."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Go to sleep."

"Go away."

"This is my house!"

"You said my mom didn't love me."

"Will you hold that against me forever?"

"Probably... That any any other mistake you make in the future."

"You are joking right?"

"You floor is warm."

"We have been over this."

"I know."

"Why must I go over it again?"

"You never explained."

"What?"

"You're so serious. Why so serious?"

"I's that a reference to something?"

"Batman. I bet they don't have batman in Russia, only communist superman."

"What!?"

"We'll watch it later, just tell me how this floor warms itself up so that I can sleep in peace."

"Pipes."

"What?"

"There are pipes under the floorboards that hold hot water."

"Hm... Not as cool as I was hoping."

"Now you can sleep."

"Oh, didn't know I needed your permission to sleep."

"What has gotten into you."

"A mothers love."

"Okay. I am done! You do your thing and I will do mine!" He pushed me off his lap and stormed out the door to do what ever angry Russians do... Probably drown himself in Vodka and punch a bear in the face... Then tell its cubs that it's mother doesn't love them, Commie bastard jerk face that he is. While I, on the floor, pulled down a blanket and pillow and went to sleep, thoroughly amused and happy until I woke up several times from absurd nightmares that clawed at the back of my head.

**So that 'I'll post in five days.' Never happened considering its been seven, but... I have a sunburn now so...**


End file.
